Born in The Arms of Imaginary Friends
by innocenceisbrilliant
Summary: It's not you, but it feels like you. That makes it seem less wicked.
1. Infatuation Turning Into Disease

It's 3:39, the town is sleeping, she rolls to her side and pulls the blanket up to her chin despite the warmth she feels. The nightmare is always the same. Rachel's darkened eyes and panting breath. Quinn shivers at the thought. She waits to see how long it will take before it- sholders drooping, figure slimming, Rachel's bones pressing, no they're buldging out of her skin, chin tilted, that smirk spreading along her face reaches out too wide, her skin is breaking, lips tearing at the edges as her eyes darken, so **dark**...

She's back, arms wrap around herself as she recognizes what's going on. It's hard for her to know what's real anymore. Quinn sighs into her pillow letting the trembles shake out. "Such scary nightmares," She tries to convince herself, the sound is muffled into the silk pillow case.

Not once did she tell Rachel about these night terrors, let alone anyone else for that matter. She handles things how they are. A dosage of Rozerem before bed, Haloperidol once a day and again if she hears those whispering words that aren't spoken, Abilify that just seems to add to the bill, and Zoloft twice a day to better manage the ongoing depression. The pretty pills keep her on a "normal" schedule while the sun is up and shining. They use that word a lot,_ normal_. The doctors explain to her that these things happen and medication is the cure. If one dose doesn't do the trick they sign off on a new perscription and send her on her way.

Quinn reaches for the little green box on the window sill at her bedside, she slips a Newport between her lips and effortlessly lights the tip. The doctors tell her not to smoke but they don't realise cigarettes have become like fuel to her, without a half of a pack a day she would have been restrained within a sleeveless white jacket locked away by now. They don't listen, she doesn't agrue, she buys a carton after every appointment. Smoking is something Quinn can control and that gives her some peace. She moves her back onto the cool wall and lets the smoke rise out from her mouth and breathes it back in through her nose. The famliararity of it all soothes her every night she's awakened.

The phone buzzes, as it always does, at 4:12 am.

**Rachel**: You're the prettiest girl I've ever met.

and again at 4:14.

**Rachel**: I'll keep you.

Sometimes Quinn will call the number half-hoping it will answer. The _Hi, you've reached Rachel Berry_ on the other end of the phone is like an old friend to her. She knows all trails of the messages will be gone before dawn. The visions go with the darkness, but the voices will stay.

"The sun will come out, tomorrow!"

Her cigarette is smashed into the nearby ashtray while her eyes scan across the room.

"Better you bottom dollar that tomorrow..."

Her hands press into the sides of her head blocking her ears. "Stop! Stop!" Quinn hears herself shout into the black room.

"There'll be sun!"

She snaps her eyes shut, trying to hide from what's to come next.

"Quinn?" The voice beckons for her.

"Please. No."

"Baby," There's no sound of foot steps but she feels the voice is closer now. Her fingernails start to scratch at the scars she's already left on her scalp. "You don't want to her me sing?"

She fights the urge to peer out through her lashes to find the girl this voice belongs to. Quinn knows that girl isn't here._**It**_'s here. "Please."

"Quinn, look at me, what's wrong?"

She can smell the tabacco burn to ash, trying to focus on that scent.

"I'm here, I'm here."

The voice is quiet now. Quinn can feel the need in it. This is a plea, it's begging her.

"I just want to stay with you..."

Whispers are so soft and gentle. Voices she can't recognize start to hum _don't you want me to stay? _Her chin tilts back, legs cross and hands steadily conformed to shape around her skull. "This is all just a big **show** for you isn't it?"

"Quinn, please..."

Her bottom lip is sucked into her mouth while she shakes her head back and forth.

"Fine."

The voice is low and spiteful, but it has moved. Quinn grips onto the edges of her mattress, eyes sealed shut. It shrieks as it always does. The blonde presses her cheek against the cool wall. Panic has finally sunken in, knees move up to her chest in defense although she knows it wont touch her now. The reality-nightmare leaves her bedroom with a great thud. The bed, along with everything else, jumps in response. It's over for tonight.

This is a routine for Quinn, just like everything her whole life, _**it**_ is set and planned for her. There's never anything out of place. Voices remind her it's time for bed now. Despite the fear, the torture, the uncertainty and of course the effects this has on her, Quinn often feels a strange comfort within the monster. It's odd to those who don't experience it, but to her it's a stability. The nightmare always comes back- same time every night. The stolen voice brings her back to where her problems didn't seem so frightening. That's the trick though, Quinn is sure, to make her feel safe and at peace when her world is in mayhem. It wants her to give in. To let it thrive off of her. As long as she refuses, she knows it will always leave for the night.

It's 4:55 am, the bed is warm and she's cuddled up ready to catch a few more hours of sleep before starting a new day filled with the same events as the one before. She feels her phone vibrate with the alarm, but chooses to ignore it. Of course it's coming, she prepares for the voice that doesn't seem so twisted, a familar, sweet good-night whisper echoes in her mind...

"_Always_."


	2. Did You Miss Me?

**AN: Just a quick thank you for those who took the time out to read and/or review. Hope this chapter isn't too long, but how else is the story supposed to be told? Enjoy!**

These walls are a light grey color with framed abstract artwork carefully spread across them.

"How are you sleeping?" Her psychologist looks up from the notepad he's been scribbling on for the past few minutes as Quinn has been explaining the minor details of her week. He alines his pen with the others on the coffee table next to him without breaking his gaze.

Quinn meets his stare, "Better than before."

He lets out an exhibrated sigh, "Quinn-"

"I swear. The dreams are still there, they'll always be there. Honestly, Dr. Smythe, they'll never stop. I've accepted that a long time ago." It's not the first time she's explained this and it won't be the last. It's very frustrating. She hits the side of one hand against the palm of the other, "_**It**_'s not a dream. It forces dreams onto me, yeah." He starts to shake his head in protest. "You don't believe me. That's fine."

"It's not that I don't believe you. I know you think what you're seeing is real," He pauses when she looks away. Quinn's tongue slides up onto her teeth behind closed lips in aggravation. "Just hear me out, Quinn." He leans forward, fingers interlacing as he continues, "Maybe it's real, maybe it isn't. Neither one of us can decide that, but what we can agree on is that it's not normal and we should work to improve on it."

Her eyebrows raise and her mouth gapes open. Normal. She gives him a sarcastic head nod and gestures for him to proceed.

"Do you want to talk about school or work?" Dr. Smythe rests back into his leather chair.

She chips at the polish on her nails. "School is fine, I finished last week. Work is stressful."

He nods, "School was never an issue with you. I had no doubts about that. Aren't you proud of yourself, Quinn? Yale. That's a big accomplishment. Just two more years and you'll have that dipolma."

She wants to tell him how little interest she has in school, how no classes appeal to her, how -no matter how many people tell her differently- she feels school is becoming more and more unimportant. Graduating doesn't mean anything if her problems are going to be adapting and growing there with her. Instead she says, "Can't wait."

He flashes her a quick grin before smoothing out his dress pants for the third time. "Still undecided on your major?"

She bites onto her cuticle. "Yes."

The ever-so-proper psychologist takes his paper and pen and prepares himself for her answer, "I wanted to know what is so stressful at your work place?"

She shrugs and shifts uncomfortably on the couch, the one that she feels her co-pays have purchased for him. "There's just not enough time in the day. Without the work I'd have close to nothing so it's just a struggle." Quinn watches as he copies her words onto the notepad. She adds: "Life's a struggle."

He gives her a polite laugh, "Yeah, well we all have to-"

The bag that had been sitting beside her starts to glow and buzz. She apologizes and reaches in for the vibrating phone.

**Incoming Call from Rachel**

Her lashes flutter into her vision, "I'm sorry Dr. Smythe, I need to take this." He waves her off and she exits to the hallway of the office before answering, "Hello?"

Silence.

No. No. _No. No. __**No!**_ Quinn makes her way to the stairwell. Her pace is steady but she can feel screams fighting to escape her lips. No. It's barely 6, the sun won't set for at least another hour. This can't wont happen. The phone starts to tremble in her hand, she's jolting in fear. Quinn reaches out and grabs onto the railing. Her body slams against it, she can't feel her heart beating. Shouldn't it be pounding? The hand wrapped around the bar starts to soak with sweat, "Rachel?"

"Quinn! Sorry I was at the gas pump." The chipper voice on the other end of the line shouts back at her. "Where are you?"

She feels her body tense up, still uncertain of what's happening. "I- I'm just leaving work now." She lies.

"Fantastic! Guess who's thirty minutes away from your apartment!"

Quinn paused for a second to regain her composure. "You're coming to New Haven?"

"I'm already somewhere in Connecticut. I just stopped at a gas station and couldn't keep the surprise any longer. So, surprise!" Rachel squeals into the phone about all the plans she had made for them for the week while Quinn creeps back into Mr. Smythe's office to hand over the check for the appointment she barely attended. "Quinn, are you there?"

"Yeah, yeah." She assures Rachel whilst jogging back down the office stairway. "Listen, uh," she fumbles with the car keys in her hand "I'm heading home now, I need to clean up the place I wasn't really expecting company." Quinn finds herself smiling at Rachel's giggles from the other line. "How long are you staying for?"

"I don't really know, I completely forgot to make a reservation with the school year ending and all that. I thought maybe I could just stay at your place for the weekend? I know this must be inconvenient for-"

Quinn cuts in, "Rach, it's fine. I wouldn't want you wasting your money on a hotel room." She makes her way to the car and switches the phone and keys in her hands. She presses the phone in it's original position against her ear. "We're friends, right?" She takes her spot in the driver's seat of her shiny red car.

There's a noticable pause before Rachel replies with a "Yeah, we are."

"Good. So I'll see you in a few minutes?" Quinn readies herself for the drive home, she can hear a car door slam closed from the other side of the call.

"On my way."

Quinn takes a look at herself in the rear view mirror, she sees the black marks underlining her eyes. "Oh, and Rachel?" She reaches into her bag and takes out the cover-up.

"Yes?"

She smears the makeup over the evidence of her lack of sleep and mass amounts of stress. "Next time, no surprises."

They share a grin over the phone, "Deal."

Click. Called ended.

She pretends she doesn't hear _I'll see you later, baby_ as she starts up the engine.

* * *

Quinn has always felt directionless, especially the past few years. The pain was always there as far back as she can remember. When she was in middle school she began to recognize that what she was constantly experiencing wasn't normal. She- like her counselors do - passed it off as something easy to explain. First it was family problems, puberty, peer pressure.

The submissive behaviour followed her into high school. She worked daily to improve herself. Make up, hair dye, weight loss. The typical things girls her age would do. She joined teams and clubs trying to fit in. When she got onto her school's cheerleading team things became more hectic. Suddenly Quinn Fabray was popular.

It was half way through her freshmen year when she met Rachel Berry. She was everything Quinn was underneath her braveface; misunderstood, self-conscious, afraid, but there was something else. Rachel, too, was forever trying to better herself. She was the type of person who had been hurt so much by her peers to assume everyone would hurt her. Quinn took advantage of that- like she felt this connection to Rachel, a girl she barely knew, and feared it. Because of that connection and intimitation, Quinn made Rachel the bullying target for her friends.

Time passes and things change, Quinn fell in love with a boy named Finn. She started to blame her skeptical thoughts on him, assumed he's always after other girls. She joined a glee club to keep him away from a girl who'd caught his eye, Rachel. Irony truly is cruel. Finn wanted all that Quinn hid away.

Quinn gave away her virginity to a boy who, in that moment, made the frantic behavior disappear. She got pregnant. Blamed the pain on the baby and gave it away. Quinn was back at the bottom, Rachel was always there to comfort her when Quinn allowed it.

Despite her best attempts, the panic inside of her started to burst out. People saw it, friends blamed it on the boys, teachers blamed it on her, she blamed it on the baby. None are true. It's the monsters inside of her trying to break out.

The brunette had snuck her way into Quinn's life by the end of their High School days, they'd bond over Finn, glee club, dreams. They were big dreamers, always thought the world was so much brighter outside of Ohio. It wasn't.

Rachel found peace doing what she always enjoyed, singing. She now attends a preforming arts college in New York that's roughly two hours away from Quinn's college in New Haven. The two kept a promise to each other to keep in touch, unlike her other friends, Rachel is special to Quinn. It doesn't matter if it's planned or unexpected, short or long, Quinn is always uplifted when Rachel is coming to stay.

Their glee club days seem like ancient history now, they are a hazy memory burried away in Quinn's mind. The friends she made are close to nothing now. Where have they been through all her struggles? Didn't they see her suffering? Was she that good of an actress, to hide the trama inside her head for so long? Didn't they care? Apparently not. They moved on with their lives, as everyone eventually does. The young adults she used to spend everyday with in the choir room were now spread out all across the country- the world even. But not Rachel.

Rachel -the girl who Quinn would victimize purely because she hated herself- is the one who sees the person Quinn is, and not the issues she's drowning in. Two hours of road is all that separates them now. Sometimes Quinn wonders if Rachel feels the same connection as she always has.

* * *

Smoke occupies her lungs, she's been sitting on the front step of her apartment building for the better half of an hour. There's cigarette buds tucked between the cracks in the pavement. Specks of rain are falling around her but the walk back upstairs for an umbrella is too much of a hassle for a small shower such as this.

Today is a good day, not essentially different from most others but then again there's the reassurance that Rachel Berry is somewhere in this world and not just in her head. Days when Quinn is reminded she isn't crazy are always valuable. So she awaits the arrival of her best friend, her only friend.

She takes another drag. Her mind starts to wander, where is she? Is she okay? Should I call?_ I'm almost there! Did you miss me? _Quinn bangs her wrist against her forehead, mumbles "Get out." Child-like laughter floods her mind. She tries to count how many are with her, there's three distinct voices. Is there others? It feels like a crowded room inside of her, she sits alone scraping at the broken chips of polish that are left on her nails.

Her phone begins to buzz again, she sighs in relief as the inaudible noise fades away. Quinn checks the screen only to read **7:30 Pill Alarm**. She smashes the cigarette between her fingers against the ground. Quinn leaves the phone to sit in her lap and digs through her purse for the medication.

She washes the Zoloft down with the salvia resting under her tongue before rumaging through her bag for some Haloperidol. Better safe than sorry she tells herself although she knows it will come anyway. She gulps down the pill hard before looking up to see a tiny silver car with a New York license plate sliding in between the faded lines of the parking lot. Suddenly Quinn's mouth seems much dryer.

A small figured woman with shiny brown hair steps out. "Did you miss me?"


	3. All This Feels Strange And Untrue

They sit at the small round table in Quinn's kitchen. The sun is fighting to stay for the night, the fridge is rattling in the corner across the room, Rachel is babbling on about how inspiring NYADA is, says her roommate is taking her on a trip to Italy in August. Quinn mirrors the ecstatic look on the girl's face. The world was always at her feet, listening to the recap of Rachel's last semester is like a broken record. Exciting and unbelievable has become normal to Quinn. She envies the joy Rachel has over every detail of the life she's living. Wishes she could have that enthusiasm towards anything.

The ranting girl in front of her doesn't notice- or maybe she ignores the way Quinn is staring at her. Rachel is special. Rachel is bright. Rachel is here, _right now_, sitting next to her. Quinn yearns to reach out and touch her; this is not the monster from her nightmares. She nods along in sync with Rachel's stories but her eyes are scanning over the up incoming star. The freckles, wrinkles, tan and bright smile, the hands waving, hair whipping and eyelids fluttering; it's all real. It's Rachel. Quinn leans into her hand and feels the edges of her mouth perked up in a grin. The pull of those muscles is unfamiliar and they tug even further.

With that strange feeling, Quinn lets her mind focus on the conversation, commenting politely when necessary. If she can't be normal, she'll do her best to be simple and boring. She offers her bed to Rachel for the time she's staying.

"Hey now," Rachel points out her slim finger, "I already called dibs on that couch. No way are you stealing that from me." The brunette titters, letting herself ingest the sight of her sleeping area before turning back into Quinn's gaze.

She nods, "Alright, alright. I just figured a New Yorker would want to get away from the bright lights for a bit. You'll feel right at home with the street lights shining through the window all night." Quinn jokes while she maneuvers out of her seat and heads for the cabinets.

"Oh, that's nothing! You should see Kurt and Blaine's place; they have one of those indoor wall fountains in the hallway." Rachel sighs in frustration, she hears Quinn snicker behind her pulling out two glasses. "I must have gone to the bathroom at least twenty times because of that ridiculous waterfall!"

"I bet you did."Quinn rolls her eyes at her friend, hip holding open the fridge door. "What do you want to drink?" She calls back.

Rachel turns in her chair to face Quinn. She tilts her head, "Are we starting early?"

Can social awkwardness be traced by a facial expression? Quinn doesn't know how to answer, she stammers on her words. "I-uh. I mean," Rachel raises her hands ready to explain herself. Quinn slides her fingers through the blonde mess on her head, brushing through the tangles. She purses her lips and nods, "No-yeah, we can _drink _drink if you're up for it. I just didn't know you'd be into that sort of thing. History would tell me otherwise, eh?" The blonde bob sways back down against her face, she forces a smile. Rachel gives her a genuine one in return before mouthing "drink drink," her nose scrunches.

It isn't drinking with Rachel that bothers her; they've had their experiences with alcohol back in high school. Once resulting with a pregnancy. That didn't matter so much; booze didn't make the choice to have unprotected sex. Hell, the girl has half empty bottles of vodka resting in an iron swirl rack right there in the kitchen. Rachel has been eyeing it up since she walked in the door. But what Rachel doesn't see is that those are Quinn's replacement medications. When money is low or the stress is high the Grey Goose goes straight into a bottle of Pepsi. If she's lucky she'll be too intoxicated for the four o'clock wake up. Having already taken her medicine she worries about the possible reactions or side effects. Let alone the lack of cash flow. Replacing what's already here will mean she actually has to _show up_ to work.

She takes another glance at Rachel as she closes the fridge, the shorter girl is silent, her legs are crossed and her hands are folded neatly in her lap. Brown eyes are glowing as they follow Quinn's movements before locking back into their gaze again. Quinn pauses for a moment with her delicate hand pressed against the crease of the freezer; the cold sensation starts to crawl up her arm. There's a breeze hitting the back of her neck, she senses its return. Quinn keeps her focus on Rachel, pays mind to how still and patient she is. Something is wrong with this picture. Quinn retracts her arm back to her side. The sounds are in motion. The whispers are dragging themselves across the floor, making their way to her feet like a ball and chain they circle around her ankles and slide their way up the backs of her legs and dash up her spine, it feels like thousands of small pins being plucked out of her skin, they reach her neck and the tingles split two ways and encircle her ears, moving in closer and closer. Quinn makes no attempt to fight them now. The noise that has no face but controls its own motion. Why fight off something so insanely beautiful? Rachel's expression is blank, she is frozen.

Quinn starts to wonder if time has stopped for her, that this thing attacking her has marked into this moment and is taking her from it. What if Quinn let it take her? Where would they go and what would happen? The world moves so slowly, everyday like the one before. Is it her monster doing this? Or is she the monster for letting it survive; for allowing herself to fight to believe it's true. Maybe time is racing by and Quinn is stuck within her own lifetime.

She waits for the murmur that never comes; just a sting of cold and suddenly the presence dissolves around her. Her eyelashes rest down onto her cheeks. She worries of when to peer out from behind the darkness.

A melodic whisper asserts it's attendance in the room. "Quinn, are you okay?"

The blonde seeks blindly for something sturdy to grab on to. Why hadn't she anticipated this? It has been expanding its life span and strength for years, becoming powerful while Quinn has gotten weak. The only shield she has is the sun. What time is it? She doesn't know. Does it matter? Is time relevant? She can't feel the beam of sunlight shining through the window onto her skin any longer. This is bad.

The voice is worried, "Do you need to sit down? You look a little out of it."

She doesn't answer but instead pauses to think about her options. She could open her eyes to see what's out there. The monster could be lurking there, waiting for this chance to fool her. If she sees it what will happen? Then of course there's the positive perspective, the world could be normal, she could pretend to have gotten dizzy and needs some water. She could keep her eyes closed and pray it leaves her. The creature may have this as a fixed moment. Rachel could be frozen during this whole scenario and when it diminishes back inside Quinn's mind everything that has happened would have seemed like a black dash in the corner of her eye. But what if Rachel is here. What if she hears this voice, would they call her crazy too? The alternative is much worse, what if she doesn't hear the voice and is merely watching Quinn fight the monsters inside her head? What would she think?

It's the perfect chance for this wicked creature to strike. To twist reality and take what it wants after all this time. Quinn is alone with the real girl and a mimicking nightmare. Behind closed eyes and misleading illusions of the truth she can't comprehend what is, in fact, real.

"Rachel?" She says in a hushed tone, for an instant she didn't recognize herself. It was a small child-like appeal for the girl. She becomes very conscious of her discomposure. The sound of her panting echoes in her ears.

"Quinn," The familiar voice travels, "what's going on? What's wrong?" Were there footsteps? She can't remember. The voice is next to her but the vibration of her breathing mixed with the quivers becomes the vital noise.

She is doubtful on how to answer, rather than responding at all she places her hand on her forehead. Her thumb and middle finger start to massage her temples. Eyes are squinting back tears. She tries to contain her anxiety, she's mumbling _stop stop stop stop_. Quinn has reached her breaking point, she's about to crumble down into pieces when a soft hand grasps onto her elbow. Her eyes burst open. Hazel eyes meet brown in great bafflement. Her jaw hangs, mouth gaping.

"I'm sorry." She says, running the hand covering her face back and through her hair. "I didn't mean to- I just- I get really bad migraines sometimes."

Rachel retracts her hand. "Oh..." Her lips form a straight line across her face in an attempt to show her sympathy. "I didn't know what to do. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Should you be lying down?"

Quinn looks the girl over once more. "No, no. I'm fine now." She rushes back to the table and shuffles through her purse.

"Are you sure? I don't think that's how migraines work..." Rachel slowly approaches her chair, seeming uncertain of Quinn's actions.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Really." She turns her head to flash a smile. A green box is tossed onto the table; the paper lid is triggered open and reveals the cigarettes packed inside. Rachel cautiously takes her seat and watches the apprehensive girl trot around the kitchen for a candle lighter. Quinn struggles to light the shriveled wick and promptly sparks up a cigarette. She inhales deeply and curves her lips to blow the smoke out of distance of Rachel. She smiles cheekily.

The brunette is tugging on her split ends, she laughs and her eyes are shining again. Quinn flicks on the filter of her cigarette, sending the ash into the glass bowl. She feels relaxed and wonders why little moments like this are so precious to her. Her friend is smirking sheepishly to herself, caught up in her mind. Maybe Rachel holds onto these simple times as well, that thought brings down Quinn's anxiety and all of a sudden things are okay. Sitting here with Rachel things are okay. She grins at how easy it is to be at peace when someone is there beside her.

For several minutes the girls are silent until Rachel speaks up. "Can I have one?"

Quinn is pinching inside the Newports box for the second one in a row. "One what?" She blinks in shock.

"A cigarette." She says as if it's nothing unusual.

"Uh..." The filter is between her lips, she slips another out of the box with ease. "Sure, no problem." She observes the performer's facial reactions while lighting the tips of their tobacco sticks. They suck in the potentially dangerous smoke. Rachel's eyes are fixated on the fire burning the paper. "So," Quinn shows off by puffing out a few 'O's, "since when do you smoke?"

"Hmm..." She puckers her lips and blows at the circles, tearing them into swirling shapes in the air. "I'm not sure, I don't do it often. More of a social kind of thing I suppose." She takes a long drag, holding it in as she says "And don't tell me how stupid I am, the dangers of it, blah blah blah." She releases the fumes from her lungs in a huff. "I know. I get it. I'm an adult now; I can do what I want. If that is a problem, well then _tough shit_." She emphasizes the last few words before crackling into fits of laughter. Quinn joins in after seeing the way Rachel curled into herself with amusement.

"Oh gosh." She wipes a tear away, smile stuck to her face. "Now what if I told your fathers about your new habit?" She teases.

Rachel snorts, "Yeah, okay." She taps out the cherry and Quinn worries that she crossed a line. "I'll just tell them you got me addicted to secondhand." She sticks her tongue out.

"You're such a dork." Quinn playfully pushes her arm.

"Well, you're a terrible host. I still haven't gotten my drink." She says matter-of-factly. Rachel fixes her straightens out her skirt against the chair.

The memories of what happened not so long ago come rushing back, hitting her like a tidal wave.

"Go!"

Quinn jumps in her seat and widens her eyes. "What?"

The small girl stared back at her. "What? You didn't get me a drink. I was just kidding, I can get it myself, it's not a big deal." Rachel waves her off and heads for the forgotten glasses sitting on the counter. Quinn watches her suspiciously

"Leave!"

Oh no.

"Rachel?"

She turns around in response to her name. "Yeah?"

"Go! Leave!"

Quinn refills her bag with the items on the table after stamping out her cigarette. "Let's go out for a drink, eh? We can get dinner too. We'll make a night out of it! Wouldn't want to spend your whole trip locked up in this crappy apartment." That's exactly what Quinn wanted to do, stay inside. Avoid the darkness; protect herself in familiar surroundings if it came to that point.

"**Go!**"

But it doesn't seem like staying here is an option.

"**Leave!**"

"Yeah, that sounds really nice actually!" Rachel takes her time putting away the drinking glasses while Quinn tries her best to disguise her discomfort. "We ready?"

"**Go! Leave! Go! Leave!**"

"Y-Yeah, let's go." The blonde scoops up her bag and climbs over the bags they lugged up stairs a few hours before. The brunette meets her at the door and locks their arms together.

"**Go!**"

They exit the apartment, one in delight, one in sheer terror. She glances at the girl on her arm and can't help but feel a warm, tingling sensation at the touch. With the click of the door behind them Quinn tries to avoid the mixed emotions she feels when the stolen voice shouts after her.

"I love you!"


End file.
